If We've Still Got the Right
by the-Mad-Majesty-of-Muchness
Summary: What if Veronica had managed to convince J.D. to stop the killing? This is my take on what could have happened if things had gone differently, inspired by the song "Seventeen" from the musical.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So I've been a fan of Heathers for quite a while before finding out there was a musical. My dad and I watched it on Netflix together once when my mom and brother were gone, my dad was all, "Hey, there's this movie we could watch that I think you're old enough to see now, it's got Winona Rider in it, I know you like her," and so he kind of told me what it was about and we got it on Netflix, and...yeah. I just didn't get into it enough to write fan fic until just recently, though, that's all.  
**

**I've also taken up an interest in maybe seeing the musical someday if I ever get the chance, I've been watching videos and stuff on YouTube and Tumblr, and I'm already in love with the music ("Candy Store" won't get out of my head!), and after I watched that video of "Seventeen" being performed at that Barnes & Noble, the lyrics put this idea into my head of, "What if..." And so I went and I looked up exactly what the song's context is in the musical (from Wikipedia; "After the funeral JD proposes the idea of hurting Heather Duke since she spread the rumors but Veronica wishes they could stop killing and just be normal (Seventeen)." The funeral it refers to is Kurt and Ram's funeral and the rumors are the ones about how they, to quote the movie, "had a swordfight" in Veronica's mouth), and after reading that, it only ingrained this idea even further into my head, so yeah, that's how this came about. **

**And anyone who's familiar with the songs from the musical is TOTALLY going to recognize shit from "Seventeen" in this chapter, yeah, because I went and I looked up the lyrics, then translated them into a conversation that mostly consists of Veronica-to-J.D. AAAnd I also found the movie script online, and I use that at the beginning of this chapter and in future chapters, as well. I've actually gotten what for me is really good progress on this so far, and the next few chapters will be up like TODAY since they're already done. **

**Anyway, I'll shut up and let you read. **

**Oh, and before I forget, Veronica and J.D. don't belong to me, nor do Kurt, Ram, the Heathers, and/or anybody else mentioned in this chapter.**

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_My teen angst bullshit has a body count. The most popular people in school are dead. Everybody is sad, but it's a weird kind of sad. Suicide gave Heather depth, Kurt a soul, Ram a brain. I don't know what it's getting me, but I've got no control over myself when I'm with J.D. Are we going to prom or to hell?_

"You know," a voice said, "prom and hell are pretty much synonymous unless you're popular enough to end up prom royalty, which we're obviously not."  
Veronica nearly jumped out of her skin, yanking her monocle off her face and letting it hang from the cord around her neck as her pen landed with an unceremonious clunking sound on her desk. "Don't _do _that, J.D.," she said, not even turning to look at him. She could feel him hovering nearby, close enough to see her big, loopy handwriting on the pages of her diary, but far enough that she hadn't realized he was there until he'd spoken. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said finally. Veronica sighed and shook her head, closing the diary and turning to face him in her chair. "What do you want?" she asked. There was a long pause.

"I, uh, was thinking," J.D. said finally, rubbing the back of his neck, "about how Heather Duke spread those rumors about you and Kurt and Ram. And I thought, hey, what if we—"  
"No, J.D., no more killing," Veronica interrupted. "I don't wanna...I'm not forging anymore suicide notes, I don't care what you say, I'm done. I told you, my Bonnie and Clyde days are over."

"Don't you want to finish what you started?"  
"What _I _started? You're the one that gave Heather that stuff in the first place!"  
"Oh, come on, Veronica, she got what was coming to her, they all did, you know that!"

"You need _help, _J.D., like serious help!"  
"What, like you're not fucked up, too?!"

At first, Veronica felt as if she'd been slapped. _At least I'm not a sociopathic nutjob who brings guns to school and fires blanks at people just for pissing me off! _she wanted to say, but then stopped short as his words really sank in. He was right. She was fucked up. Maybe not as much as he was, but just the same.

"Fine," she said finally, "so we're damaged. We're both really damaged. But that doesn't mean anything. We're not special, or different, we don't get to pick who does and doesn't live. God, J.D., let's just be normal, okay? Let's...Let's go see bad movies, sneak beer, watch TV, maybe make some stupid brownies or go bowling or something, I mean, don't you want a life together? I just wanna be seventeen, can't we do that? Just let me in, we could be good together. Look, people hurt us sometimes, or—or—"

"Or vanish," J.D. said. Veronica nodded.  
"Yeah, or vanish," she agreed. "And you're right. It blows. It totally blows. But we have to let go and take a deep breath, go buy some summer clothes, go camping or canoeing and eat some fucking chili fries and get fucking heart attacks or some shit. Maybe go to prom together and dance, 'cause I keep looking in your eyes, and..."

"You've got such beautiful eyes," J.D. said quietly.  
Veronica smiled weakly at him. "Can't we just be seventeen?" she asked again. "Is that...Is it really so hard to do? 'Cause I'm serious, we could be _really _good together if you'd just let me the hell in, J.D., and if we still have the right after what we've done, then I wanna fucking be seventeen with you. What's it gonna be? 'Cause I know my choice, I want to fucking be with you, dammit."

"I wanna be with you, too, Veronica."  
"Tonight, and...always, maybe. Like I said, we're damaged."

_"Badly _damaged," J.D. corrected, and she nodded.  
"But...your love is too good to lose. Hold me, J.D. Hold me tight, hold me close, 'cause if I'm what you choose, then I'll stay."

J.D. stared at her for a long moment, and she was afraid that he was going to say no, that he was going to just jump back into trying to convince her to fake another suicide note or something. But when he spoke, he said what she had both been hoping for and thinking she wouldn't get to hear.

"You're the one I choose. You win, Veronica. If we still have the right, then okay. Let's be seventeen together."

"Really?"  
"Really. You're the one I choose."

They just stood there staring at each other for a moment or so, and then, not knowing what else to do, they kissed. It was no different than their past kisses; intoxicating, addictive, and perfectly fucked up on so many levels, but also perfectly right on so many other levels. But at the same time, it was also nothing like those other kisses. This one was...more gentle somehow, more...caring. It was just a normal kiss between two teenagers in love. J.D.'s hands started to creep up underneath Veronica's top, but before it could progress any further, they heard her mother yell, "Veronica, dinner!" They broke apart, and J.D. started heading for the window. "I'll see you at school tomorrow," he said. She nodded.

"No more killing?"  
"No more killing."  
"You promise?"  
"I promise."

She stared at him with wide eyes. He flashed a crooked grin, pulling his leg back in through the window and going back over to her, pulling her into his arms. "You're the one I choose," he whispered.

"Veronica, dinner is ready, come down and eat!"

J.D. kissed her one more time, then hurried back over to the window and climbed out. Veronica sighed, then took the monocle from around her neck and set it down on her desk. "Coming, Mom!" She glanced back at the window one more time as her hand rested on the doorknob. "I'm holding you to that promise," she muttered, and then she turned the knob and went down to dinner.

J.D., sitting out on the section of roof just outside her window, chuckled as he lit a cigarette. "Yeah," he said to the empty night air. "Yeah, I'm holding myself to it, too, darling."

* * *

**Okay, so you might think he gave in a little too easily there for it to be believable with his character, but remember, this is my version of a "what if?" scenario, so I can do what I want with it, TROLOLOL! Jk. Seriously, though, it's a "what if?" so...yeah. Also, the thing about prom and hell being synonymous? I got that idea from my brother. We were watching it the other day, and he's got this habit of commenting on stuff in movies and talking/responding to the characters, usually with at least a little bit of sarcasm thrown in there, and when we were watching it the other day and Veronica asked if she and J.D. were going to prom or to hell, my brother, from over on the couch, pipes up and goes, "Both. They're the same thing." And I thought that was just too good not to use in this, so I translated it into J.D. speak and then stuck it in here. :P**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so I used the script more for this one, and you can really tell, though I changed a few things to make my little AU world work. Like, for example, I cut out the scene where J.D. gives Heather Duke the red scrunchie and had her obtain it another way, which you will find out what that is at the end. And then...Yeah. That's all I can think to say except that I don't own anything or anyone (though I wouldn't mind owning a non-douchey version of J.D., if I'm being totally honest here.) Oh, there is one more thing! I kid you guys not, the part where the students all start getting up, the script literally uses the phrase "going apeshit" to describe what everybody starts doing when the TV crew comes in. **

**"With the TV crew in the room, the students start going apeshit."**

**That's literally what it says, word-for-word, I shit you not. How funny is that?**

**Okay, sorry, just had to share that. :)**

* * *

"Attention!"

Someone spit out his milk.

"May I have your attention?"  
Veronica walked into the cafeteria wearing a pair of black glasses, and the first thing she saw was Pauline Fleming doing God-only-knew-what dressed in what looked like some kind of Indian sari type garment thing. "This school has been torn apart by tragedies," Pauline was saying. "I'm here to fuse it back again, in togetherness! I want everybody to clasp hands!" Veronica took her glasses off, looking at the teacher as if she were insane, which for all Veronica knew, she might very well be, or at least on something. "We need to connect this cafeteria into one mighty circuit!" Pauline yelled. "Look, here's the TV crew, clasp your hands!"

She had said the magic words. Suddenly, everybody was up on their feet going apeshit while Pauline went around making everyone hold hands. Veronica looked at Heather Duke. "Looks like Ms. Phlegm's on another one of her crusades," she said. "Usual success, of course." A TV reporter came over.  
"Hi, what's your name?" the man asked. Heather grinned at him. "Hi, I'm Heather Duke," she said.

Meanwhile, Martha Dunstock was crawling under a table while J.D. came up to Veronica from behind and put his arms around her. "Is this as good for you as it is for me?" he asked, and then went and sat down at Martha's table, prompting Martha to come back up from her hiding spot. J.D. nodded at her. "Greetings and salutations," he said. Veronica shook her head in disgust, then turned around and left. Seeing this, J.D. patted Martha's shoulder and started to get up. "I'll have to catch you later," he said, and then went after Veronica and caught up with her in the hallway, bringing a hand down on her shoulder and turning her around. "Veronica, what's the matter? Where you going, huh?" he asked. Veronica slapped him.

"Now what the _hell_ was that for, darling?"  
"You promised, J.D., you promised no more!"  
"No more killing, I know, but what—"  
"So quit being an ass about the deaths!"  
"I—I'm sorry, darling. If I'd known that would bother you, I wouldn't have said it. Look, how about we just forget all about the crazy shit going on in there, cut our next few classes, and go get some slushies, huh? That sound nice? I'll buy."

"I won't cut class," Veronica said after a moment of thought, "but we can go after school lets out, I'm fine with that."  
J.D. nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, after school, we'll blow this dump and go get some slushies to freeze our brains."  
Veronica nodded grudgingly. "Okay. We'll freeze our brains," she said quietly. "What about in the meantime?"  
"In the meantime? Uh...Well, I kind of left that Martha girl hanging. You, uh, wanna go and check on her?"  
"Yeah, absolutely. That girl seriously needs people looking out for her, she's got it way too rough."  
He took her hand and started leading her back towards the caf. "Hey, J.D.?"

"Yeah, darling?"  
"What's gonna happen when it's time for you to move?"  
J.D. froze. For a long time, he said nothing. "I ain't goin' through that shit again," he said in a low voice finally. "You have no idea what it's like, Veronica. Never in one place for more than a few months, never making friends, always the new kid. It's no wonder I'm so fucked up, huh? My dad blew my mom up, I'm never in the same school for more than about four months at a time, I have no friends, no girlfriend until you, I'm the weirdo with the gun full of blanks, nobody loves Jason Dean, huh? You were right last night, darling. I'm damaged. You know, I, uh...I heard what you said about holding me to my promise. I'm holding me to it, too, just so you know."

"J.D., tell me the truth, had you ever killed anyone before Heather Chandler?"  
J.D. closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "One time," he said, "when I was ten, I got into a fight with this other kid. We were living in Kansas at the time, lots of cornfields and shit, and near the edge of town, there were these train tracks. So I get into this fight with this other kid, it gets physical, we chase each other through town and across the tracks into this big cornfield. There was this barbed wire fence, see, and we didn't realize it was there, we were so busy pounding the living shit out of each other. So finally, I manage to shove him off myself, and he, uh...He falls backwards and ends up right on the fence. Literally. On the fence. And the wire was so sharp, it impaled him. So yeah, I killed a guy once before. It was an accident, but still. Wake up call, darling, you're dating a felon. I've killed, stolen, lied, cheated, you name it."

"Then I guess I just have to keep a close eye on you, huh?" Veronica said. J.D. nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I guess you will. So come on, are we gonna go check on Martha or not?"

* * *

"That thing this afternoon," Veronica said later as they were sitting on J.D.'s couch. "I'm so angry! It was chaos, fucking chaos."  
"Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling," J.D. said. Veronica rolled her eyes, picking up the remote and smacking him on the arm with it. "Hey, ow, that hurt! Hey, you kids are making too much damn noise," he added as his father came in smiling and carrying a video tape in his hand.

"We beat the bitches," Bud said.  
"Beautiful," Veronica said, "the Beaver is home."  
"The judge told them to slurp shit and die," Bud told them.

He put the tape in and hit play. A large house appeared on the TV screen. "I put a Norwegian in the boiler room," Bud said. "Masterful!" As J.D. and Veronica watched, the house fell apart. "And then," Bud continued, "when that blew, it set off a pack of thermals I stuck upstairs." He laughed. "Some days it's great to be alive!" With that, he turned and left. Veronica looked at J.D., but his expression was hard to read. He seemed frozen, just staring at the screen even though it was blank now. "Do you like your father?" she asked finally. J.D. blinked as if he were coming back to reality from somewhere that existed only in his mind.  
"I've never given the matter much thought," he said. "I liked my mother. They said her death was an accident, but she knew what she was doing. She walked into the building two minutes before my dad blew the place up. She waved at me, and then...Boom."

Veronica remembered earlier in the hallway how he'd said his dad had blown his mom up when he'd been saying that it was no wonder he was so fucked up. She hadn't realized how literal he'd meant it, though she supposed she should've known seeing how Bud was the way he was and seemed to be where J.D. got a lot of his issues from. Something occurred to her suddenly. "Since he got what he wanted," she said, "doesn't that mean you guys are moving soon?" J.D. didn't respond right away, and during the silence, the radio DJ started talking. "If I get one more request for that Big Fun song," the man said,_ I_ am gonna commit suicide!"

"Hey, they're playing our song," J.D. said, but it was half-muttered and his eyes were distant, staring off into space. There was no joking or cruelty in his voice, just something akin to a vague indifference of sorts, as if he wasn't really there in the room with her. "Here it is," the DJ said, "'Teenage Suicide: Don't do It!'" The song started playing while Veronica watched J.D., who was still staring off into space at nothing in particular. Then, after a few moments, his face twisted into a scowl, and he pulled out his gun, standing up and firing off two shots at the radio, making Veronica flinch in surprise as it exploded into pieces. She sat there staring at him in shock, heart pounding.

"Seven schools in seven states," he said, quoting himself from the other night, "and the only thing different is my locker combination. I ain't going to another, Veronica. I ain't adding an eight state, I ain't adding an eighth school. Until now, no friends, no girlfriends, no attachments. But I couldn't resist you. You're right, darling. He's probably gonna haul my ass off soon. But I won't let him this time. This time, I'm gonna come up with something to put myself one step ahead so I won't have to—" He faltered momentarily, and when he spoke again, his voice cracked slightly. "So I won't have to leave you behind. Because God, Veronica, if I lose you, it'll only add to my damage. I ain't letting that happen. So I'm gonna brainstorm, I'm gonna figure something out so I can stay here. Remember last night when you asked if I wanted a life with you? My answer to that is I absolutely do, I mean...hell yeah. I'm gonna make it so I can stay here and do exactly that. So I can have that life with you. So we can be seventeen." He let out a long, heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

"J.D.?"  
"Mm?"

"You wanna go to my house tomorrow instead of here? Play some croquet?"  
He opened his eyes and grinned half-heartedly at her. "I'd love to, darling."

* * *

Veronica called Betty Finn that night and invited her to join the croquet match, as well, so the next day, J.D. and Betty both came over to play.

"I don't believe it," Betty said, "I'm winning!"  
"Don't you start getting cocky on me now, girl," Veronica replied. J.D. was standing a few feet away, watching them as he leaned on his mallet like it was a cane. "I've really missed you," Betty told Veronica. "I know I'm not as exciting as your other friends."

"That is bullshit," Veronica told her, and J.D. snickered slightly as he shook his head. "Now shoot."  
"Do you know I'm still a virgin?" Betty asked. "Okay, I French kissed Al Springer once. Total disaster!"  
"Shoot the ball!" Veronica repeated. "You know, Betty, your daydreams are much better than my reality, believe me. But now, prepare to die."  
"Ronnie!" Betty said, and J.D. couldn't help but laugh at the nickname, turning it into a cough when Veronica turned to shoot him a look that clearly said to shut it if he didn't want to be clobbered with her croquet mallet, which, having grown rather fond of the way his face looked, he decided he would really rather her not do.

Veronica shot her ball, and it hit Betty's. She was about to take two free shots when Betty interrupted her. "You're not gonna go for just those two shots, are you?" she asked. "Go ahead, knock me out. It's the only way to win." J.D.'s eyes shifted from Betty to Veronica, waiting to see what she would do. "It's not my style," Veronica said, and J.D.'s mouth twitched up slightly at one corner. "Nice guys finish last," Betty said, "I should know." Again, J.D.'s eyes moved from Betty over to his girlfriend, gauging her reaction and waiting for her response. To his surprise, she changed her mind, choosing to knock Betty's ball out rather than take the two shots. Then the sound of clapping started up, and J.D. and the girls all turned to find Heather Duke and Heather McNamara coming towards them from the patio.

"Bravo," Heather Duke said, "Brav-o."

Betty handed Veronica her croquet mallet. "I gotta go home, okay?" she said, and J.D. frowned, thinking to himself what a shame that was since he had been growing rather fond of Betty. "Okay," Veronica said, taking the mallet. "Thanks," Betty told her, and then gave J.D. a small grin as she adjusted her glasses, coming over to him and holding her hand out for him to shake. "Nice meeting you, J.D.," she said, and he nodded as he shook the offered hand. "The pleasure was all mine," he said. Betty gave him another grin, then turned to leave. "Bye, Betty," Veronica said.

"Betty," Heather Duke said as Betty went past her, "leaving so soon?" Then, to J.D. she added, "What about you?"  
"Oh, who, me?" he said. "No thanks, I'm pretty comfortable right here, I think I'll stick around a while longer."  
Heather turned to Veronica, both eyebrows raised, as if to say, "Are you seriously going to let him stay?"  
Veronica shrugged. "I invited him over here," she said, "he's my guest, he can stay if he wants."  
After a moment, Heather shrugged. "Suit yourselves, I guess," she said. "I'm red."

That was when Veronica noticed that she was wearing Heather Chandler's red scrunchie, the one that symbolized the leader of the Heathers. She scowled. "Where the hell did you get that?" she asked. When J.D. saw what she was talking about, he freaked out internally. He'd taken that off the body before leaving Heather Chandler's house the day of her death. He'd been holding onto it until he figured out what to do with it, even contemplating giving it to Veronica so that she could take control and make the school a better place, so how could Heather Duke have gotten a hold of it? It hadn't left his coat pocket once since—His pocket. Oh, God, his pocket. His hand dove into it on a sudden impulse, only for his fear to be confirmed; there was a hole in the lining, the scrunchie must have fallen through at some point and escaped his notice while he'd been occupied with his promise to Veronica and the issue of escaping the fate of going to an eighth school in an eighth state and changing locker combinations again.

"I found it on the floor in the hallway," Heather said. "It was just sitting there like someone had put it down for me to find. Weird, right? Now, are we gonna play or what? I'm red."

* * *

**Please don't ask me why "beaver" is capitalized in Veronica's "the beaver is home" line, okay, I have no clue, that's the way it was written in the script, so that's how I wrote it in here. *shrugs* And yeah, I know that the thing about chaos and the dinosaurs is still kind of a jerk-ish thing to say, but it's just such a great line, I couldn't not use it, so I cut out the part about chaos being great and just left the part about the dinosaurs. :P**

**Also, J.D. IS, for the record, still going to get his hands on Heather's copy of Moby Dick, but like the scrunchie, it will happen differently than in the movie since I've obviously cut out the whole petition and blackmail stuff. **

**AAAAnd...um...Okay, so the next chapter is going to follow the script almost exactly except for a few things, so it's kind of a filler chapter, really. And...this one seemed longer when I wrote it. Huh. Isn't it weird when that happens, when it seems longer or shorter than it is when you actually post it? I never know whether it makes me mad, upset, or just plain confused when that happens to me, lol.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Like I said, this one's more of a filler that follows the script more exactly, blah blah blah, I don't own anything, blah blah blah...**

* * *

Veronica was watching television with her parents. Pauline Flemming was talking over the image of what had happened in the caf. "The Westerburg suicides," she was saying, "were tough on all of us. But shared the pain of losing three very popular students. I came into the cafeteria and asked them to hold hands..."

"Isn't that the flake we met at the open house?" Veronica's dad asked.

"...in a burst of cleansing syncronicity, TV cameras happened upon the scene," Pauline continued.  
"Cleansing syncronicity?" Vernoica echoed in disbelief. "Outpouring of emotions?"

"There's Heather!" her dad said when Heather Duke appeared.  
"And there's Heather!" her mom added at seeing Heather McNamara. "Where are you, Veronica?" she asked.

"Before a teenager decides to kill himself," Pauline said, "there are a few things he needs to know. After all, this is a decision that affects all of us, and there's only one chance to get it right."

Having gotten fed up, Veronica picked up the remote and turned the TV off, only for her mother to tell her to turn it back on.  
"Can't you see these programs are eating suicide with a spoon?" Veronica demanded. "They're making it sound like it's a cool thing to do!"

"Are you telling me this is not a time for troubled youth?" her mother asked. "Stand up straight."  
"All we want," Veronica went on, "is to be treated like human beings, not experimented on like guinea pigs, or patronized like bunny rabbits."

"I do not patronize bunny rabbits," her father said.  
"Treated like human beings?" her mother echoed. "Is that what you said, Little Miss Voice-of-a-Generation? How do you think adults act with other adults? Do you think it's just like a game of double tennis? When teenagers complain that they want to be treated like human beings, it's usually because they are being treated like human beings."

Veronica sighed as she leaned against the mantle. "Then I guess I picked the wrong time to be a human being," she said.  
"You'll live," her mother said. "Want some pate?"

Just then, Heather Duke came in through the front door as if she owned the place. "Hello, everybody," she said pleasantly, "the door was open. Veronica, have you heard? We were doing Chinese at the food fair when it comes over the phone that Martha Dumptruck tried to buy the farm. She belly-flopped in front of a car wearing a suicide note!"

"Is she dead?" Veronica asked.  
"No, that's the punchline. She's alive, and in stable condition. Just another example of a geek trying to imitate the popular people at school, failing miserably. Is that pate?"

And then, Veronica slapped her across the face.

* * *

"I said I was sorry!" Veronica said. She and Heather were up in her room talking.  
"You were out of control!" Heather said. "I mean, Heather and Kurt were a shock, but Martha Dumptruck? Get crucial. She's dialed the suicide hotline since she was in diapers."

"You're not funny."  
"Look. Martha couldn't take the heat, so she got out of the kitchen. Just think what a better place this world would be if every moron followed her cue."

"Shut up. Hot Probs is on."  
"Oh, shit, yeah!"

Veronica turned on the radio.  
"It's like," the caller was saying, "Skip is okay, but sometimes I feel like I'm on that island, and Gilligan can just be so stupid sometimes!"  
"Well, dude," the DJ said, "just remember; if it wasn't for the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost, and you are, too. Next!"

"That sounded like a big one," Heather commented.

"You've got the dog catcher!" the DJ said.  
"My name is Heather," the caller said, and Veronica and Heather looked at each other in shock. "No," the caller said, "it's not Heather. No, it's...Madonna. Jeez, no, not that."

"Hey, babe, I need a name."  
There was a pause.  
"My name is...Tweety."  
"Tweety?...Oh, tweet."  
"God has cursed me, I think. The last guy I had sex with killed himself the next day. I'm failing math, my whole life is a mess. I was supposed to be captain of the cheerleading team..."

"She knows we listen to this show," Veronica said.  
"Holy shit, we'll crucify her!" Heather said, a huge smile on her face.

"My parents are divorced and stuff..."

The next day in class, "Poor little Heather" was written up on the chalkboard in cursive for everyone to see. Heather Duke looked smug. Heather McNamara looked like she was trying to shrink out of existance. Veronica was writing in her diary.

_Heather told everyone abou Heather. Yes, dear diary, I cut off Heather Chandler's head, and Heather Duke's has sprung right back in its place, like some mythological thing my eighth grade boyfriend would have known about. Heather's even doing the old note trick. I've seen J.D.'s old way. I've seen Pauline Flemming's way, and nothing has changed. I guess that's Heather's way. And Jesus, what about J.D.? He hasn't shown up at school lately and I can't get him out of my head! Wait, where's Heather going?_

"Where's Heather going?" the teacher asked.  
"She's going to cry," Heather Duke said, and everyone laughed.  
After a few moments, Veronica got up and followed. "Where's she going?" the teacher asked.

"Heather!" Veronica called as she went into the bathroom. She turned Heather around, revealing that her mouth was stuffed full of yellow pills, then threw her against the wall, and the pills came out. "What are you trying to do?!" Heather demanded. "Kill me?!"

"What are_ you_ trying to do? Sleep?"  
"Suicide is a private thing," Heather said, sinking to the floor as Veronica crushed several pills into powder beneath her feet.  
"Heather, you're throwing your life away to become a statistic in the U.S. Fucking A. today," Veronica said, sitting down next to her. "That's about the least private thing I can think of."

"What about Heather and Kurt and Ram?"  
"If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?"

"Probably."  
"If you were happy every day of your life, you wouldn't be a human being, you'd be a game show host."

There was a pause.

"What do you say we knock off early and go buy some shoes or something lame like that?" Heather asked. Veronica smiled at her. "Okay," she said.

* * *

Veronica went after Heather Duke the next day and found her sitting on a windowsill as if she were sunning herself. When Heather stood up, Veronica tried to hit her, but missed. "Heather, why can't you just be a friend?" Veronica demanded. "Why are you such a megabitch?"

"Because I can be," Heather said simply. "Veronica, why are you pulling my dick? Do you think...I mean, do you really think that if Betty Finn's made her cool, she'd still hang out with her dweebette friends? No way, Veronica."

She left, and then J.D. showed up.

"Want to go out tonight?" he asked. "Catch a movie, you know, some miniature golf?"  
"I was thinking more along the lines of slitting Heather Duke's wrists open, making it look like suicide."  
"Really? 'Cause if you're serious, then I found her copy of Moby Dick after she left it sitting on a lab table in—"

"I was kidding, J.D.! No more killing, remember?"  
"Right, I know! I'm sorry, I just...Old habits, I guess. So...is that a yes or a no to the date?"  
Veronica sighed. "I can't tonight," she said, "too much homework. Maybe tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to that."

* * *

**...next chapter's where we REALLY go AU, blah blah blah! XD**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, it's a short chapter and uses nothing from the script except the very beginning, but this is where stuff really gets started, I promise.**

* * *

That night, Veronica was laying on her bed, when suddenly, J.D. popped up beside her holding Heather Duke's copy of Moby Dick. "'And even for hate,'" he read, "'thou can't but kill, and all are killed.' It's got that 'what-a-cruel-world-let's-toss-ourselves-in-the-abyss' type of ambiance, don't you think?"

"God, J.D., I told you to stop scaring me like that!"  
"Sorry, darling. As I said before, dreadful etiquette."

Veronica sighed as she sat up and looked at the clock. "Jesus Christ, J.D., it's like two in the morning, what are you doing here?"  
Instead of responding right away, J.D. put his hand on the back of her neck, pulled her close, and pressed his lips against hers in a manner that suggested urgency. "I have it all figured out, Veronica," he said when they pulled apart. "A way to solve all our problems. No more moving, no more Heathers, no more cliques or bullies or any of it, just you and me and some nice cold cherry slushies. It's perfect."

"What are you—"  
"Run away with me."

At first, Veronica wasn't sure that she'd heard him correctly. "I...I'm sorry, what?" she managed finally.  
"Run away with me, darling," J.D. repeated. "Throw some clothes into a bag and meet me outside, we'll hop in the station wagon, grab some slushies and stock up on snacks on our way out of town, and go anywhere we want, just the two of us. Come on, Veronica, think about it. It could be great. You and me and nobody else, just living out of the station wagon, drinking slushies, eating Twizzlers for every meal, going where we want when we want doing what we want, nobody to boss us around or bitch at us...It'll just be us. Think about it. I mean, weren't you saying just the other night how you wanted a life together? This is it, Veronica, this is our chance for that. I'll even let you pick where we go. Anywhere you want, doesn't matter how far away it is, just name it and I'll take you there."

"But...why? That's what I don't understand."  
"Because the way I figure, the only way to escape me leaving is just to leave. It's weird, I know, but it's better than my alternative idea."

"What was your alternative idea?"  
J.D. hesitated a moment. "Killing my dad," he said finally, the words rushed and a little slurred. "But I meant it when I said I'm going to hold myself to the promise I made, and...I'm not sure I would've had it in me, anyway. I mean, no matter what he's done, he's still my dad, so...you know. Come on, Veronica. You asked me if I wanted a life with you, and I do, but this is the only way I can see it happening. Come on, please? I love you, Veronica."

She stared at him for several moments, searching for something in his face, his eyes. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but she knew in her heart when she found it. "Okay," she said quietly. J.D.'s eyebrows went up. "Okay?" he repeated. Veronica nodded. "Okay," she said. J.D. grinned, leaning forward and kissing her. "I've already got my stuff in the car," he said when they separated. "Just get some stuff into a bag, grab some clothes, toiletries, and uh...come meet me outside when you're ready. Oh! And whatever you do, you have to promise me you won't write a note for your parents, alright?"

"Why not?"  
"'Cause what if they call the cops to go and find you or something? What if...I dunno, what if they think I kidnapped you or something? I have a record, darling, remember? I've been arrested for shoplifting. Look, Veronica, you have to trust me, okay? Just...promise me there won't be a note, and I'll—"

"What if I just tell them not to look for me?"  
J.D. gave her a confused look. "I beg your pardon?"  
"Yeah," Veronica said, "what if I just said something like...I don't know..."

J.D. put his hands on her shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes. "No notes," said firmly. "Please. Promise me. I gave you the promise you wanted, now please give me the one I want." Veronica hesitated for a moment or so, but then she gave a single nod, and J.D. released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thank you," he said. "Okay. Get your stuff, and I'll meet you out by the station wagon. Be as quick and quiet as you can." He gave her a quick kiss, then vanished out the window.

Veronica sat on her bed for a few moments after he was gone, then blinked, looked around, and got up, heading to her closet and pulling out a messenger bag that she'd had sitting around without a use for several years or so. She threw several days' worth of clothes in, then put her toiletries in a large Ziploc back and put that in with the clothes, and then, almost as an afterthought, she grabbed her diary, shoving it in deep among the clothes before zipping the bag up, throwing it over her shoulder, grabbing her shoes, and heading downstairs. She opened the front door and stepped outside, quietly closing it behind herself and then re-locking it with her house key, which she'd brought for that exact purpose, before throwing the key into the bushes, slipping into her shoes, and hurrying across the front lawn to where the station wagon was parked by the curb, J.D. sitting in the driver's seat smoking a cigarette. "Hey there, beautiful," he said as she got into the passenger side and tossed her bag into the backseat. "I was beginning to think you'd bailed on me. You ready?"

She leaned over, placing her hand on the back of his neck and kissing him.

"I'm ready."

* * *

**I'm still working on the next chapter, but it's coming along quite nicely and will hopefully be up soon, so yeah. Also, remember to review! This is my first fic for this fandom, and I want to know if I'm doing well with it. Also, don't worry, I'm planning on there being some trouble with J.D. trying to keep that promise and stuff eventually, I'm just not quite sure when it'll manage its way in quite yet, so...yeah. I don't own anything, blah blah blah, you know the drill. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so as always, I don't own anything, yaddah yaddah yaddah, um...Okay, yeah, there are like some songs and stuff mentioned in here that I'm sure some of you are going to recognize (one in particular, especially if you're a Johnny Cash fan), and I'll be giving a little bit of info about that stuff at the end, and also, I worked really hard to try and make this chapter longer, and I'm pretty pleased with the results, hopefully it's not TOO long, and OH MY GOD, SPELL CHECK, I DID NOT MISSPELL THE WORD SLUSHIES, I DID NOT MISSPELL THE MOBY IN MOBY DICK, JOHNNY CADE'S LAST NAME IS SPELLED CORRECTLY, SO IS WESTERBURG AND GLOVEBOX AND CAJUN AND MARTHA'S LAST NAME AND-**

***turns into the She-Hulk and smashes Spellcheck with a car* (Holy shit, it's even telling me that Spellcheck is misspelled, are you fucking kidding me?!)**

* * *

Veronica woke to the feeling of sun on the back of her eyelids and somebody kissing down her neck while a hand rested on her shoulder. She blinked a few times and waited a moment as the blurriness faded out of her vision, then rubbed her eyes as she looked over her shoulder and found herself looking at the top of J.D.'s head as he continued kissing her. "Good morning, darling," he murmured into the crook of her neck. "Morning," she said. She let her eyes wander around while J.D. continued with his kissing, and she quickly came to the conclusion that they were in a motel room. That was when she remembered everything from the previous night; him sneaking into her room through the window with Heather Duke's copy of Moby Dick and telling her he had a solution to their problems, then asking her to run away with him and painting the picture for her of them living in the station wagon, living off slushies and Twizzlers, not held down by rules or cliques or anything else, just them doing whatever they wanted when the urge struck, how she'd finally given in, packing her stuff up and sneaking out of the house...

And then they'd driven to the gas station, gotten slushies and stocked up on Twizzlers and other snacks, then they'd driven off into the night listening to Bach and talking about everything and nothing. Veronica didn't know how long exactly they had driven, only that she hadn't felt tired at all until suddenly, J.D. pulled into the parking lot of a motel, and then the exhaustion hit her full force. She'd waited in the car while he'd gone in and gotten them a room, then he'd come back and knocked on her window to let her know they were all set, and she'd grabbed their bags from the backseat, handing J.D.'s to him and letting him lead her up a flight of stairs and to their room, where she'd set her bag down and immediately collapsed onto the bed, only half-aware of J.D. settling down beside her and putting his arms around her as she obeyed whatever instinct was telling her to burrow up against his chest. After that, there was nothing but blackness.

"You went out like a light, you know that?" J.D. said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "You must've really been tired, huh? You wanna see what's on TV?" Without waiting for an answer, he got up and grabbed the remote from where it was sitting next to the crappy little TV that was in the room. He flopped back down next to Veronica as she sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, and turned the TV on, then started flipping through the channels. "Where are we, anyway?" Veronica asked. J.D. shrugged. "Some podunk little town a few hours away from home," he said, then stopped suddenly when he reached the news. A story about the Westerburg suicides was just ending, and Veronica rolled her eyes. "God, do people seriously have nothing better to talk about?" she asked, though it wasn't really directed at J.D. so much as it was just a general thing.

J.D. glanced at her for a brief instant, then turned the TV off, sighing and shaking his head. "Let's get ready to face the day and get outta this dump, shall we?" he asked as he got up. Veronica looked at him, then down at herself, only just then registering that they were both still dressed in the same thing as the previous day, which didn't surprise her given how quickly they'd taken to the bed last night. She was a little surprised, however, to find that her shoes were gone, and when she glanced around, she found them sitting next to J.D.'s over against the wall beneath the window, and at first she was confused, but then she realized that J.D. must have taken them off of her at some point during the night and put them there, as well as that he must've managed to get the covers out from underneath her body at one point so he could cover her up with them, because she knew that she'd fallen asleep on top of them. It had been sweet of him to do that, she supposed, and wondered vaguely if it was something he would've done before making the promise that their killing days were over.

Now, she watched him as he went over to where his bag was sitting beside hers in the single armchair in the small room, opening it up and pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, then pulling his current shirt over his head so he could switch out for the fresh one. Ever since making that promise, he'd definitely changed. Veronica honestly hadn't thought that it would happen so quickly and easily for him to let go of his old ways, but then again, even as close as they appeared to be to outsiders and as close as she herself often felt to him, she had to remember that the reality was they'd really only known each other for a couple weeks, so for all she knew, the psychotic sociopath shit that had been going on before wasn't over yet, maybe it had just gone into some kind of hibernation or something for the time being. Or maybe he just really meant it when he said he loved her and was seriously trying hard not to break that promise. Who knew?

In any case, there was no reason she couldn't think about it later. Right now, she just wanted to take a quick shower to get the grimy motel feeling off of herself, then put on some clean clothes and get going. She didn't know where exactly the were going, but she knew there would no doubt be quite a bit of driving involved with getting there. Where was it J.D. had said they were? Oh yeah. A "podunk little town" a few hours away from Sherwood. Podunk. What a funny word that was, Veronica thought. She'd never really heard anyone use it before, seeing as nobody in her life had ever really had a reason to do so, and it kind of surprised her that J.D. had used it. He hadn't really struk her as the type to use a word like podunk.

"Veronica, did you hear me?"  
She blinked. "Oh...No, sorry, what?"  
"I said if you're thinking about taking a shower, don't bother, I tried last night and the water doesn't work."  
Veronica frowned. While lost in her thoughts, she'd managed to succeed in pulling some clothes out of her bag and wandering over to the bathroom door, and she was standing with her hand on the knob, her clothes held against her body by the other arm. "This place can't seriously be that much of a dump," she said. J.D. shrugged at her as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots on. "Like I said," he replied, starting to tie the laces on the first one, "podunk town. Speaking of which, we still gotta figure out where we're going, don't we, darling? Lucky for us, I have a map stashed in the glovebox. So get dressed, and let's hit the road, we can figure out where we wanna go while we're driving. I'll let you pick."

So Veronica got dressed, and after they had shoved their dirty clothes into their bags, Veronica took their things to the car while J.D. went and checked them out of the motel. They grabbed some fast food on their way out of town for breakfast and ate while they drove. "Alright," J.D. said as he licked some ketchup off his fingers, then gestured to the glovebox, "reach in there and look around, there should be a map of the good ol' U-S-of-A." Veronica did as he said and opened the glovebox. She had to dig for a couple of minutes, but then she managed to find it; a neatly folded, laminated map that showed the state of Ohio on one side and the entire country on the other. "Picked that up on my way to your house last night," J.D. explained. "So just...pick a city. Any damn city you want, I don't care, doesn't matter what state or how far it is, just whatever city sounds good to you, pick one and that's where we'll go."

Veronica studied the map for several moments, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Reno," J.D. said, "Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ott—"

"Oh, shut up," Veronica said, hitting him playfully with the map. "Now you're just quoting that Hank Snow song! Like half the places from that song aren't even on this thing, anyway. Let's see...What about Louisiana? I've always thought it would be pretty neat to see those big riverboats they've got down there, maybe try some cajun cooking."

"Gumbo and lobsters," J.D. said, "yummy. Alright, so Louisiana it is. You got anywhere specific in mind? New Orleans, Baton Rouge, Arcadia, Cullen...?"  
"Let's go to New Orleans," Veronica replied. J.D. grinned and nodded. "Alright, baby, New Orleans it is!" he said, then morphed into what Veronica's mother would refer to as a "swamp person" accent as he added, "We gon' go have us some lobster with'uh al-ee-gay-turs, darlin'!" They both burst into laughter, and J.D. only laughed harder when Veronica snorted. "Shall we listen to some music?" J.D. asked once they could breathe again, opening up the compartment on the center console between them to reveal a jumble of casette tapes, each with a different label. "I've got all sorts of shit in here. Oh, I know! You ever heard the song 'Brown Eyed Girl,' by Van Morrison?"

"Yeah, but I don't think I've heard the whole thing," Veronica said.  
J.D. threw his head back dramatically. "Ah, you're killing me, Veronica!" he said. His hand dove into the compartment and began shuffling everything up inside. He would pull a cassette out every now and then and glance at it, then drop it back in, shake his head, and keep digging. Finally, he pulled one out that made his face light up. "Ah-ha! Here it is!" He put it into stereo and skipped to the fifth track, and when the music started, he tapped out the beat on the steering wheel as he drove. He sang loudly and without any restraint, continuing to tap the beat out on the wheel and deliberately throwing his voice a little off pitch just for the hell of it. When it got to the chorus, he threw the volume on his voice up another notch or so. He was grinning broadly, and Veronica couldn't help but laugh, especially when his voice cracked at one point on the "you" when he sang the line, "You, my brown eyed girl."

This was the most relaxed she'd ever seen him, Veronica realized suddenly. She had never really noticed before, maybe because it was just how his posture had always been and she'd never seen him any other way as far as that sort of thing went, but it occurred to her now that ever since they'd first met in the cafeteria, there had been a sort of...tenseness in his shoulders. Even at his own house, sitting on the couch, even without Bud around, it was always there.

_"What's your damage, J.D.?"_ she thought.

She hated him. She always would, she knew that. She would always hate him for dragging her into the mess that he had, there was no way to deny or get around that fact. No matter how much time passed or what happened between them from that point on, there would always be that resentment over it. But at the same time, she loved him, and she'd never be able to get around that, either. Like it or not, they were bound together. Murdering Heather Chandler had intertwined their fates, and she knew that just as well as she knew that she both hated and loved him at the same time. J.D. was badly damaged, and there was nothing either of them could ever do to change that, and Veronica was well aware of that fact. But maybe, just maybe, with a little luck, she could manage to put some good into his life for once.

As the song ended and turned into "Sweet Child O' Mine," Veronica turned to look at him. "Hey, J.D.?"  
"Yes, darling?" he said, reaching to turn down the volume so they could hear each other better.

"What's the deal here?"  
"I beg your pardon?"

"I've never seen you so...chilled out. What's different about right now than any other time?"  
"Well...for one, I've got you with me and nobody around to bug us. Got good snacks just waitin' to be eaten in the backseat. What else do I need?"

"Does the music maybe have anything to do with it?"  
"The music? What would the music have to do with it?"

"Well, you know, it's been proven that music can effect the mood and the way we think. Like, okay, if I'm bummed out about something, I just have to listen to the right type of music, and next thing you know, I'll be on Cloud Nine, and it works the other way around, too. So I'm just saying that maybe part of the reason you're all relaxed and stuff right now is because the music—"

"Music has always been there for me," J.D. said suddenly. "You know, I mean, like I've said before, moving around all the time, you don't make many friends, always being the new kid and everything. Music is the one thing that's remained consistent in my life. That and books. They let me get away for a while, escape everything and forget who I am and all my damage. They make me forget about all the moving, the changing locker combinations, the lack of friends, my dad blowing my mom up, all of it. It's just so easy for me to get lost in the music, and books, they let me be somebody else for a while, do things I can only dream of doing, make something out of myself and do some good for once in my pathetic life. My favorite song is probably 'Behind Blue Eyes' because it speaks to me on a very deep personal level, you know? You've heard that song, right? And my favorite book...I love _The Outsiders._ Hell, that's probably my favorite movie, too. Something in me just really gets Dallas Winston, you know what I mean? I can relate to the guy. I can really relate to him."

He paused and sighed, shaking his head. "'Sixteen years on the streets,'" he quoted, "'and you can learn a lot. But all the wrong things, not the things you want to learn. Sixteen years on the streets and you see a lot. But all the wrong sights, not the things you want to see.' Sometimes that's how I feel, Veronica. You know, I mean...'You get tough like me and you don't get hurt.' I can kinda relate to Johnny Cade, too. All the bullshit at home. I'm gonna die like Dally someday, Veronica, I just know it. You ever read that book, you remember how they said Dally died?"

"Violent and young and desperate," Veronica said.  
"Violent and young and desperate," J.D. repeated. "Yeah. That'll be me."  
"'But Dallas Winston wanted to be dead,'" Veronica quoted, "'and he always got what he wanted.' Are you saying you wanna be dead, too?"  
"My initials match what I am," J.D. muttered, as if he hadn't heard her. "'I am a JD and a hood,' remember that part? Juvenile delinquet, that's what it stands for in that context, remember? J.D. the JD, how about that?" For several moments, they sat in silence, Veronica looking down at her lap while J.D. stared straight ahead at the road. Then, managing a somewhat strained smile, J.D. said, "Enough about my 'oh-woe-is-me' bullshit and childhood angst, though, I'd rather talk about you."

"Me?"  
"Yeah, you."  
"What about me exactly?"  
"Well...I guess for starters, what's your middle name?"  
Veronica couldn't help but laugh. J.D. shrugged, looking at her in confusion. "What's so funny?" he asked.  
"Out of all the things to ask about, you wanna know my middle name, seriously? Why?"

"Why not?"  
"It's Anne."  
"Veronica Anne Sawyer. That's pretty, I like it."  
"What's yours?"  
"Mine? Garrett. Have you always lived in Sherwood?"  
"My whole life. Where were you born?"  
"Little town up in Washington called Fircrest, few hours from Tacoma. So have you ever left Sherwood before now, like on vacation or anything?"  
"I would go visit my grandma in Geneva when I was younger, but then she died. I've never left the state before, though, no. Where was the last place you lived?"

"Roseburg, Oregon. Extracurriculars?"  
"On the journalism and yearbook team. You?"  
"Never been able to do any 'cause of all the moving."

And so for the next however many miles, they just went on like that, going back and forth asking each other questions about themselves and their lives and getting to know each other better. Veronica learned all seven of the states that J.D. had been referring to the other night (California, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Wisconsin, South Carolina, Oregon, and finally, Ohio, in that order), and he learned that when they were younger, everyone used to hang out with Martha Dunstock. He told her that when the Outsiders movie had come out in '83, he saw it a total of twenty-seven times before it left the theaters, including the midnight premiere, and he was rather appalled to learn that she had never been to the midnight premiere of any movie, telling her that she had not lived until she knew what it was like to be kept awake only by the huge bright screen and the caffeine in an extra large soda and the joy of being among the first to witness a great film, then going on to insist that at some point during their expedition down south, she absolutely had to let him take her to one, and after a lot of persistence, she finally agreed on the terms that they get a motel room prior to the movie so that she could spend the afternoon sleeping since it would mean being up past midnight, to which he agreed.

They would pull over every now and then to trade seats so that J.D. wasn't doing all the driving, and when it came time to get something for lunch, they got off at an exit and found a gas station, where they refilled the gas tank and got some slushies and a couple of those packaged deli sandwiches, which they ate in the parking lot before continuing on their way. They listened to everything from Bach to Guns 'n Roses to Michael Jackson, and Veronica was surprised to learn that there was even some Madonna among J.D.'s collection of cassettes, which she discovered while digging through them at one point when they were ready to switch out the current tape for a new one, and his response to her asking him about it was to defend his manliness by saying that it wasn't his fault that "Like a Prayer" was such a damn good song, which only made Veronica laugh before saying, "Oh, don't worry, J.D., I won't tell anyone...maybe."

They even managed to do a pretty good portion of the "Thriller" dance despite the fact that they were sitting in a car, and wearing seatbelts to boot.

J.D. told Veronica about what it had been like at his past schools, and that when he said he'd been to seven schools in seven states, he was only talking about high schools. Counting everything before that, the number was actually higher, but he chose to just stick with the high school number because he'd found that for whatever reason, it made it a little easier for him if he just pretended that it was only seven. There were a lot of things he'd always wanted to do, he said. He had thought at one point that it might be cool to take guitar lessons, but then he'd realized that he'd have to not only figure out how to scrounge up enough money to get his own guitar, but also go hunting for a new teacher every time they moved, and besides, what if they moved somewhere that he couldn't find one? Then he'd thought, hey, maybe he could teach himself to play and just solve the problem that way. But then he realized he didn't have the first damn clue how to read music, and even if he did, or if he could play by ear, it still wouldn't matter since he didn't know which guitar string went with which note or pitch or whatever, so how would he know which one was the note he needed to be hitting?

One time, he told her, he'd volunteered himself to help build the set for a play that one of his schools had done while he was there, if only for the sake of getting to take out some of his anger and frustration with the world by hitting stuff with a hammer and cutting things into pieces with a miter saw and other things like that. Then one day, when he was working with a hot glue gun, he'd accidentally touched the nozzle and gotten burned from it. It had hurt, but at the same time, he'd found some sort of odd comfort in it. "I was going through some depression at the time," he explained, "and the thought of cutting had crossed my mind more than once, but I'd never actually gone through with it. But then I realized something when that hot glue gun burned me. I realized that I didn't have to cut myself to get that feeling, that I could—Jesus Christ, what the fuck?!" He leaned on the horn, blasting it at the guy who'd nearly run them off the road trying to get into their lane, then flipped the bird at the other driver as he sped up and passed him.

He sighed heavily after it was over and shook his head. "Anyway," he said, "like I was saying, every few months or so, I burn myself with a cigarette just to remind myself that I'm still alive and breathing. Like I said, it's only every few months that I do it, so the burns have plenty of time to heal in between, that's why I don't have any scars from it. You know, my mom, she used to read to me from this copy of Aesop's Fables that she had, and there was this one fable in particular that's always stayed with me. The Scorpion and the Frog, you ever heard it?"

Veronica shook her head.  
"No? Well it goes like this. One day, a scorpion and a frog met on the bank of a river. The scorpion asked the frog to carry it across since it couldn't swim, and the frog asked, 'How do I know you won't sting me?' The scorpion replies, 'Because if I do, we both shall drown.' Satisfied with this answer, the frog allows the scorpion to climb onto its back and they set off across the river. Well, halfway to the opposite shore, the frog feels a pricking sensation, and knows that it's been stung. As the paralysis begins to set in, the frog asks, 'Why?' And the scorpion has just enough time to say, 'Because it is my nature.'"

"Why are you telling me this?" Veronica asked.  
"I'm dangerous, Veronica," J.D. said after a long pause. "I'm like that scorpion. It's in my nature to do bad things to people. I've been trying to hold myself to that promise I made, but it...it's so hard, Veronica, it's...it's so damn hard. I'm trying, for you, I really am. I'm trying to let you in like you asked me to, because you're right, I think we're good together. I'd even be open to letting you fix me if I thought I could be fixed, but I know that I probably can't. I just...I guess I'm just trying to look out for you in my own weird way by telling you that story. Because if I'm the scorpion, then you're the last person on Earth that I want to see end up as the frog."

Veronica wasn't sure what to say to that, and so they just kept driving with only the music breaking the silence.

* * *

**Okay, so the version of "I've Been Everywhere" that you all are most familiar with is probably Johnny Cash's, but believe it or not, Johnny was not the original artist of that song. If you didn't know, his was only a cover. It was originally written by an Australian country singer named Geoff Mack in 1959 and made famous by someone called Lucky Starr in '62. The way it ended up making its way to America is that Geoff Mack's publisher offered the song to to a Canadian-born singer named Hank Snow, the guy that Veronica refers to in this chapter, and Snow thought that it had potential for both the Canadian AND American markets, but only if they changed the names of the places from places in Australia to places in North America, so that's what they did, and that version is the one that Johnny Cash covered. It was released by Snow in '62 on a record album of the same name.  
**

**For those familiar with "Behind Blue Eyes" who, like me, only know the Limp Bizkit version, or somebody else's version (e.g; Anthony Stewart Head's):**

**"Behind Blue Eyes" was originally released in November of '71 by The Who, and has since been covered by many artists, including Limp Bizkit, which is, as I said, the version that I'm familiar with. If you DON'T know this song, then the reason I picked it for this is because the lyrics just very much say "J.D." to me in a lot of ways. (The song was, in fact, written from the POV of the main villain of something called _Lifehouse. _The villain's name is Jumbo, and the info on Wikipedia says that the lyrics "are a first-person lament from Jumbo, who is always angry and full of angst," and if that doesn't sound like J.D. to you, then shut up and get out because you are lying.)**

**As for "Brown Eyed Girl," I chose that one because it was released in like sixty-something, so it fits chronologically, and it's always had a special place in my heart because one of my earliest and favorite memories is sitting in a restaurant somewhere with my nana next to me while that song played through the speakers in the ceiling and her singing it to me. **

**Also, YES, The Outsiders would've been published by this point in time, I checked! The book was published in '67 when Hinton was like seventeen or eighteen years old, and the movie came out in '83. The movie Heathers was released six years after that in '89, which is, in my mind, the same year it takes place, so J.D. would've seen it in the theater at age eleven. **

**Also, Fircrest is an actual place in Washington and it really is near Tacoma, you can look for it on Google Earth and/or Maps if you don't believe me. Geneva is also an actual place in Ohio, and all the places in Louisiana that J.D. lists in addition to New Orleans are also real, I checked. The only place in here that's mentioned that's even halfway made up is the town where Heathers takes place, which I know is not a real place because I found the Heathers Wiki on accident while I was checking to find out if Westerburg was the name of town or just the high school, and I learned that not only was it only the name of the high school and the town itself was named Sherwood like the forest, but also that Sherwood is not an actual place. **

**SO. There ya have it, folks. Hope you're enjoying this so far, please remember to review, and hopefully I'll have a new chapter ready for ya soon. :)**

**OH, ONE MORE THING! I put a reference to one of the songs from the musical in chapter two, and then forgot to mention it when I posted that chapter, but anyone who finds it and lets me know will get not a cookie, but pancakes and muffins and one treat and/or other item of their choosing. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, so as always, I own nothing, blah blah blah, and quick note! So, you know the TV show Full House? Turns out that's not a 90's show, that's an 80's show. The first season aired in '88, which was the year before Heathers was released, so a year before this story takes place. Okay, that's all I have for you today, you can read now. :)**

* * *

The next motel they stayed at was nicer than the first. It didn't really look very different except for a few small things, but it was cleaner, and much to Veronica's relief, the water actually worked, so she was finally able to take a shower, which was the first thing she did after they checked in. When she came out of the bathroom, J.D. was lounging on the bed watching _Full House_ on TV. "New or rerun?" she asked.

"Rerun," he said.  
"Which episode?"  
"The one where D.J.'s Spanish teacher has the hots for Danny."  
"Oh, man, I love that one!" Veronica said, going and flopping down next to him on the bed. For several moments, they just sat in silence watching the show. "You know," J.D. said, "my mom used to tease me about how D.J. must be my female counterpart because she has the same initials as me, only reversed. I always told her, 'No way, our hair's not even the same color!' She'd just laugh and tell me, 'Alright, if you say so.'"

"Why do you go by your initials?" Veronica asked. J.D. shrugged.  
"When I was little," he said, "I...Well, okay, you know how when kids are learning to talk, their parents and grandparents and other people will like point at stuff and say, 'And what's that?' and all that crap, and sometimes they point at themselves and do that? Well, when I was learning to talk, my mom pointed at me one time and said, 'And who are you?' I'd heard people call me Jason, but I'd also heard people call me Jason Dean, and for some reason, my brain jumped to the second one instead of the first, but since I was so young at the time, it ended up coming out as Jay-Dee, and as I got older, it just kind of stuck, y'know? God, Veronica, do you really have to just be in the towel?"

"I got distracted when I saw what you were watching! Besides, it's not like it's that big of a deal, you've seen me naked before."  
"Yeah, and now you're making my life just that much more difficult by laying around without any clothes on. I can't promise I'll be able to keep my hands off of you like this."

Veronica grabbed the remote and turned the TV off as she sat up. "Who says that's a bad thing?" she asked, then got up and started heading to where her bag was sitting, intending to get some clothes out for herself. She'd barely made it a foot, however, when J.D. suddenly got on his knees on the bed, supporting himself with one hand as he leaned over the edge, using the other hand to grab Veronica by the elbow and pull her back onto the mattress with him. She ended up on her back with J.D. on his hands and knees above her, sort of caging her there with his body. "Now, let's see," he said, "I could probably do a few different things here. But I'll give you one guess what my first choice would be."

"If we're gonna do this, shouldn't we put put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door?"  
"Oh, please, everybody knows that this is the main reason people come to motels."  
"Oh, sure, just go with the blatantly obvious movie stereotype and assume that it applies, that's a great idea, J.D.! And then what'll we do when a maid comes in here and catches us in the act?"

"Goddamn, Veronica, way to kill the mood! Just smash it with a hammer there, why don'tchya?" So saying, he pulled back until he was just sitting between her legs rather than hovering over her, pulling his legs in and tucking them up underneath himself. Veronica sat up, and J.D. smirked at her. "Who's got the dreadful etiquette now, huh?" he asked. Veronica laughed softly and shook her head, then wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against him. She was a little worried about getting his shirt wet since her hair was still damp from the shower, but he didn't seem to mind, his only reaction being to put his arms around her waist and hold her.

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_J.D. had a little bit of a freak-out earlier when he realized that money's gonna be an issue at some point. Cards are out of the question because they can track us that way, so if we don't figure something out, we're as good as screwed. Meanwhile, we're living off slushies and fast food, just like he said we would. God, he really managed to romanticize this whole thing when he was talking me into it. That's another way he's dangerous, I think. With his words. He can make me believe just about anything. And Jesus, I can't stop thinking about that story he told me in the car, about the scorpion and the frog. Anyway...We've just been watching reruns of _Full House_ all evening, and for dinner we had the McDonald's that we got on our way into town. I woke up and can't get back to sleep, so I'm writing this at like...Jesus Christ, it's like 1:30 in the morning!_

_This...road trip or whatever it is we're on here has been good in a lot of ways I didn't expect. I mean, yeah, it's getting us away from Heather Duke and all that other shit we were having to deal with before, but it's more than that. I think it's changing J.D. I've always been able to see that there was someone besides the sociopathic killer inside of him, and I think that maybe J.D. knew that other person was there, too, but he just didn't know how to let the other person take over because of all his damage and everything, but I think this whole experience is finally bringing that person out. Because he really does seem different. Like he's changed, but at the same time, he hasn't. Does that even make sense? Whatever. My point here is that I think he was wrong when he said he couldn't be fixed, because I'm seeing what's happening with him, and he really does seem...less tense, I guess. That's not to say there isn't still danger in him, I mean...I think he'll always be dangerous on some level. There will always be that potential inside of him. I think it's just a matter of keeping that in check and finding a way to manage it. _

_Honestly, I blame Bud for most of J.D.'s issues. I mean, I don't really know that much about their relationship, but from what I've gathered, Big Bud Dean is not exactly the ideal candidate for the Father of the Year reward. I mean, what kind of guy actually blows up his own wife? Like, seriously. _

_Okay, so when J.D. was telling me about his thing with _The Outsiders_...When I got up to get this out of my bag, I accidentally bumped J.D.'s with my elbow, and apparently it was open, because something fell out, and when I bent over to pick it up, guess what it was? It was this seriously worn out copy of The Outsiders, and on the inside of the cover, somebody had written in Sharpie, PROPERTY OF JASON DEAN. STEAL THIS AND I WILL SHANK YOU. I thought it was kind of funny in a seriously J.D. kind of way, but at the same time, it made me realize just how much that book really means to him. Obviously, I put it back in his bag because there's no point in him freaking out or anything, but before I did, I just kind of flipped through and did some skimming, and oh. My. God. Did that boy underline. I mean did he reeeeeaaaaaally underline. He underlined the fucking SHIT out of that book, I am telling you. Not just that, but every so often, I would also find little notes in the margins of the pages, and it would be like he'd box something instead of underlining it, then draw an arrow over into the margins and it would be pointing at a note that would say something like, for example, "So true that it hurts," or "Yeah. Tell me about it," or the one that said, "I wish you weren't right about this." _

_One of them just said, "Why, Pony?"_

_It was...kind of depressing, honestly._

* * *

"Mamaaaaaa just killed a man! Put a gun against his head, pulled the trigger, now he's—"  
"J.D., turn it down, I can barely hear myself think! J.D.! I'm serious, J.D., turn it down!"  
"Aw, come on, darling, everybody loves Bohemian Rhapsody! Sing with me, come on!"

Saying this, J.D. continued to belt out the lyrics at the top of his lungs and not turn down the volume on the stereo. "You at least have to do the Galileo part with me!" he said after a moment. Veronica rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, fine!" she said finally. So after he had belted out, "Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightning!" a few minutes later, Veronica called out Galileo's name, then let J.D. do the next one, and so for that bit of the song, they went back and forth with Veronica doing the more high-pitched ones and J.D. doing the lower pitch until finally, they both called out, "Galileo, Figaro! Magnifico!"

And then Veronica found herself unable to stop, drawn in by J.D.'s infectious mood.

"I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me! Come on, Veronica!"  
"Fine! He's just a poor boy, from a poor family! Spare him his life from this monstrosity!"

"Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?"  
"Bismillah! No, we will not let you go!"

"Let him go!"  
"Bismillah! No, we will not let you go!"

"Let him go!"  
"Bismillah! No, we will not let you go!"

"Let me go!"  
"Will not let you go!"  
"Let me go!"  
"Never, never let you go!"  
"Never let me go!"  
"No, no, no, no, no, no!"  
"Mama mia, mama mia!"  
"Mama mia, let me go!"  
"Beezlebub has a devil put aside for me!"  
"For me!"  
"For me!"

Veronica laughed as J.D. tried to send his voice up to an octave that it clearly was not ever meant to reach. "You know," he said over the music, "I always swore that if I ever learned to play guitar, the first thing I'd do was form one of those stupid garage bands and play this song until my fingers bled and I never wanted to hear the phrase 'Any way the wind blows' ever again for the rest of my life! I don't even know what I'd have named the damn band, I never bothered coming up with any ideas, I just knew I wanted a group of idiots who'd be willing to play the song an infinite number of times with me!"  
"Are you sure it was a band you wanted?" Veronica asked, and then immediately regretted it. She had most definitely not meant to say that out loud. J.D. laughed and shook his head. "Whattaya mean?" he asked. "A band's a band, darling, what could I have possibly been deluding myself into thinking of as a band?"

"N-Nothing."  
J.D. looked at her. "No," he said, "tell me."

Veronica shook her head. "No, really, J.D., it's—"  
"Don't tell me it's nothing, Veronica," he interrupted, finally turning the music down.

"It is," she insisited. "Nothing, I mean."  
"You're a terrible liar, darling, absolutely awful."

"I beg your pardon? I am not!"  
"The left corner of your mouth twitches a little."

"I—Okay, fine. I just meant that maybe it wasn't really a band you were after so much as it was..."  
There was a pause after she trailed off. "So much as it was...?" J.D. prompted, and Veronica mumbled something incoherent in response.

"I'm sorry, darling, what was that? Couldn't quite hear you."  
"I said maybe it wasn't a band so much as it was...mmmrends."  
"Once more, and this time a_ little_ louder, please."  
"Friends, J.D., I don't think you wanted a band so much as you wanted friends, okay?! There, I said it!"

For the longest time, there was silence, the music turned nearly all the way down doing what only barely qualified as breaking that silence. Veronica could practically feel the air get thicker with tension almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She suddenly didn't have the nerve to look at him directly, but from her peripheral vision, she could see J.D.'s knuckles steadily turning whiter as his grip on the steering wheel began to grow tighter.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" J.D. asked finally, his voice low.  
"I saw what you did to your copy of _The Outsiders,_ J.D.," Veronica said quietly, crossing her arms and keeping her gaze on her lap. "It fell out of your bag when I was getting my diary out last night, and—"

"And you _looked_ at it?"  
"I was just curious is all."

J.D. took a long, deep breath in through his nostrils, then slowly let it out as he pulled the car over and killed the engine, then fell back against his seat, covering his face with his hands, then pushing his hair back as he shook his head. "Dammit, Veronica," he said, "you don't _do_ that, okay? You just don't do that. You don't...Look, it's like your diary, okay? You don't just go through a man's stuff like that, you don't—"

"'I took a good look at him,'" Veronica cut in suddenly.  
J.D. looked over at her in confusion. "What?" he said.

"'I took a good look at him,'" she repeated. "'He was seventeen or so, but he was already old. Like Dallas was old. Cherry had said her friends were too cool to feel anything, and yet she could remember watching sunsets. Randy was supposed to be too cool to feel anything, and yet there was pain in his eyes.' You recognize it, J.D.? It's from the book. You underlined it. You underlined the fucking shit out of that part, from the bottom of page one-fifteen right up to the top of one-sixteen. And I read that, and I thought of you, because when I look at you, J.D., I don't just see my boyfriend, I see a boy who's so fucking damaged that he's older than he should be. And you know what else you underlined? You underlined where Randy said you can't win, and what he said about how it doesn't do any good, the fighting and the killing, it doesn't prove a thing. And you boxed what Ponyboy said. 'You hate the whole world.' You underlined that, J.D., and the note you put with that line said that it hit you like a hundred thousand—"

_"Fucking_ knives in my _fucking_ chest, Veronica! I know what I wrote, dammit, what's your fucking point?!"  
"My point is that it wasn't a band you wanted, J.D., it was friends! Friends who'd stick with you like Ponyboy's stuck with him! My point is that you can act the rebel loner all you fucking want, that doesn't change the fact that you want to belong to a group as much as anyone else! My point is that you hate the world just like Randy, and that maybe you agreed to stop the killing so easily when I asked you because deep down, you agree that fighting and killing don't do any good! Now I know why you like that book so much, and it's not because you can relate to Dallas Winston, it's because over half of the shit in there hits home with you in a way that you fucking refuse to admit that anything ever has!"

For a minute or so, J.D. just sat there gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were a ghostly white, his jaw clenched tightly as his shoulders trembled slightly. Then, suddenly, his hand darted out and snatched the pack of cigarettes sitting on the dashboard. He yanked one out and lit it, but instead of putting it in his mouth, he imitated what Veronica had done just a few days ago in the school parking lot, pressing the burning end of it into the center of his palm. The hand holding the cigarette shook under the effort of applying so much pressure, and while at first he merely clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, trembling all over, it finally got to be too much for him and he let out a wordless shout of pain.

Veronica leaned over and tried to wrestle it away from him, but he was stronger than she was and was able to shake her off without too much trouble, after which he dropped the cigarette into his burned palm and closed his fist around it as tightly as he could, letting it burn even more of his hand while his eyes began to water with the pain of it. Some of the smoke crept out from between his fingers, and when he uncurled them, his hand was smeared with ash. He extinguished it in the car's ash tray, then left it there, crumpled and bent, and wiped the moisture from his eyes on his coat sleeve.

"Don't ever mess with that book again unless I hand it to you myself."

And with that, he started the car, and they were on their way again.

* * *

**...Um...Yeah. I guess just...sorry the wait on this one was longer, my mom is out of town and so I've been doing stuff with my dad and brother all weekend, so I haven't had as much time to work on it. I'll have to figure out how to start the next chapter, but for now, I'm gonna go play my favorite MMORPG. (I have a guild meeting tonight on one of my characters, I don't want to miss it) **


End file.
